Instant Father

“I’m hanging onto it because it’s mine. She has no right to any part of it.”

“That’s not what the title deeds say.”

“The title deeds are a formality for tax purposes, and Liz knew that perfectly well.”

“If all your wife meant to you was a tax dodge, I’m not surprised she left you. She should have left you years ago.”

“Another glib judgment made in ignorance.”

“It’s not my judgment, it’s hers. Why don’t you just let her go? Let my father buy you out.”

“He couldn’t do it in a million years. He only offers to buy me out because he knows there’s no fear of my taking him up on it. He knew a good thing when he met Liz, didn’t he? A rich woman who could walk away from her husband with a lot of property.”

She paled. “How dare you speak about my father like that? He’s an honorable man, and he loves Liz.”

“Does he? Or does he love what she can bring him?”

“You’ve got no right to say that. You don’t know him.”

“I know he stole my wife, my house and my son. What else do I need to know?”

“He didn’t steal your wife. He won her by offering her the love you couldn’t, the only currency that counts, only nobody ever told you that, did they? If you’d known about love you might still have your wife, your house and your son.”

“Don’t tell me I don’t love my son. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him be brought up by Tony Ackroyd.”

“He’ll be lucky if he is. There isn’t a better father in the world.”

“The best father is his own father.”

“He’s four years old, for pity’s sake. How can you try to snatch a child so young away from his mother?”

Through the confused mass of pain and bewilderment that possessed him, he couldn’t find the words that would express his true feelings. All he could manage to do was cry out, “Because he’s mine.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He wasn’t so insensitive that he couldn’t realize that. But no other words would come.

He saw her looking at him in contemptuous disbelief. “The house is your. Liz is yours. Peter is yours. It’s all property to you, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t,” he snapped. “Peter and I…” He stopped. It would have been hard enough to speak of his bittersweet love for his son with a sympathetic listener. With this judgmental young woman it was impossible. “Never mind,” he said, unaware of how plainly his thoughts had been revealed on his face. “Just tell me where I can find my wife and son,” he said.

Her eyes were fixed on his face, and they had a new look, as though she’d seen something that had startled her. Her manner softened. “They’re inside,” she said. “I’ll tell them you’re here.”

She thrust her spade into the earth with a strong movement and ran back to the house. Gavin felt shaken and drained by the interview. He began to look around him and realized that the destruction extended much further than digging up a lawn. Tony Ackroyd evidently had big plans for the grounds, if the huge rolls of wire lying about were anything to go by.

“Daddy.”

He turned to see his little son scampering across the lawn toward him. For a moment delight blotted out all other thought, and he opened his arms to scoop him up. The little boy’s warmth sent a sensation of joy flowing through him. “Have you missed me?” he asked.

Peter nodded, smiling.

Gavin looked around. There was nobody about. Soon the angry young woman would rouse the house, but for the moment the coast was clear. He could escape now, taking Peter with him. “Peter,” he asked in a low, urgent voice, “would you like to come home with me?”

His anxious eyes noted how the child brightened, and his heart began to beat with hope. “We’ve got so much to do together,” he said. “We can go to the zoo and see the lions and tigers and—”

“Uncle Tony says it’s wrong to keep lions and tigers behind bars,” Peter said, frowning. “He says it’s cruel.”

Gavin took a deep breath. “All right, never mind the zoo. You can have that computer game you wanted. And we’ll—”

“Can I have a puppy all of my own?”

“Well, that’s not going to be easy, because our flat doesn’t have a garden.”

“But Uncle Tony says—”

“All right, you can have a puppy,” Gavin said hastily. “Shall we go now?”

“Is Mommy coming, too?” Peter asked.

“No, just the two of us.”

“But I want Mommy. I want Mommy.”

In the silence that followed, he knew he’d lost. He was a hard man, but not hard enough to force a four-year-old child to leave his mother against his will. He sighed. “I guess that’s that, then,” he said.

“Are you going to stay with us?” Peter asked hopefully.

“No, I—I just came to see how you were.”

“But I want you to stay.”

“And I’d like to be with you but—Mommy and I can’t be together any more—”

“Why not?”

It would have been so easy to say, “Because she’s a faithless wife who walked out and she’s the one keeping us apart.” Put the blame on Liz, where it belonged. Teach her son to blame her. See what she made of that.

But he couldn’t make himself tear the child apart. He despised himself for a sentimental weakling, but he couldn’t do it. “Because that’s the way it has to be,” he said with a sigh. “You and I will still see each other sometimes. As often as I can manage. I promise. Be a good boy for your Mommy and—”

Before he got the next words out a whirlwind seemed to descend on him, Peter was snatched from his arms and Liz was standing there before him, her face blazing. “I might have known you’d try something like this,” she said furiously. “Another moment and you’d have spirited him away. Oh, thank God I got here in time!”

“Spare me the dramatics,” he said coldly. “I was saying goodbye.”

“It’s a lie,” she cried. “I know you. You were trying to steal him.”

The angry young woman had hurried up behind Liz and was watching the little scene with a frown. “Liz—” she said.

“Did you see what he was trying to do?” Liz demanded. “If you hadn’t come and warned us, he’d have got away with it.”

“Liz, I don’t think he was trying to—”